


gonna leave its mark somewhere

by doubtthestars



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - American Horror Story: Coven, Crack, Deal with a Devil, M/M, Supernatural Elements, Witchcraft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-04
Updated: 2015-09-04
Packaged: 2018-04-17 23:18:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4684958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doubtthestars/pseuds/doubtthestars
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Does he eat?" Mesut peered curiously close to the demon encased in a human body. </p><p>Robert snaps his teeth at him playfully. "I'm fond of steak, extra bloody." </p><p>"For the love of whatever this means in a theological sense, did you really have to summon the demon with expensive taste, Jer? You couldn't have botched up a spell for a friendly housekeeping demon or something?" Jerome rolls his eyes and the brim of his hat starts smoking with the force of Benni's glare.</p><p>"Oh, I'm not a demon." Robert corrects him cheerfully. Jerome sighs noisily, batting away the hand reaching for his hat.</p>
            </blockquote>





	gonna leave its mark somewhere

**Author's Note:**

> _Pleased to meet you_  
>  Hope you guess my name  
> But what's puzzling you  
> Is the nature of my game.
> 
>  
> 
> \--Sympathy for the Devil, The Rolling Stones.

"Does he eat?" Mesut peered curiously close to the demon encased in a human body. 

Robert snaps his teeth at him playfully. "I'm fond of steak, extra bloody." 

"For the love of whatever this means in a theological sense, did you really have to summon the demon with expensive taste, Jer? You couldn't have botched up a spell for a friendly housekeeping demon or something?" Jerome rolls his eyes and the brim of his hat starts smoking with the force of Benni's glare.

"Oh, I'm not a demon." Robert corrects him cheerfully. Jerome sighs noisily, batting away the hand reaching for his hat. 

"Yeah, about that, Meet Robert, prince of darkness, blah blah more commonly known as the Devil." Mats starts laughing, probably dislodging an organ with the force of his cackling. Robert looks a tiny bit offended at the reaction 

"Robert like Bob, bob the devil. Ohmygod." Mats goes into hysterics after sharing that thought, rolling onto the couch almost suffocating himself against the cushions. Mario leans away, even though he is sitting in a separate loveseat, hoping not to catch the crazy. He was the last of the coven to arrive at the Institute. He was still adjusting.

Mesut still looked politely interested in having the Devil in their living room. "I'm not getting anything from him. It's pretty refreshing." Robert moved on from the laughing mortal to examine the singed hat in his hands, making it spin around upside down on the tip of his finger. Jerome throws the hat across the room. The Devil gets easily distracted and bored at the literal drop of a hat. He had only been with him for a few hours and Robert was already a nuisance.

"What's up asshats, what's with the welcoming party? I know you've missed me but--who's the stud in the suit? New recruit?" Robert looks unimpressed by Manuel's entrance. Bene crosses his arms, sulking at the attention of his not-boyfriend? fuckbuddy? paramour? it was complicated. The Devil was handsome, but that was a given with the title, he thought.

"Meet the Devil, Manu." Jerome mumbles the introduction.

"Don't worry, firestarter, he's Touched, wouldn't want him anyway." Manu shrugs, no offense taken. Mesut turns his head sharply, face caught between confusion and mortification. Manuel taps his forehead lightly in greeting. 

"Get out of my head, Mes. You don't want to be in there. Some new age hippie told me that ages ago. Healing isn't a common thing for a reason, it's...I don't know, descended from saints or something." He waves off the rest of the explanation by picking up his bags. "I'm gonna catch up on sleep. Nice to see you Satan. Are you staying for dinner?"

"Yes." "No." Jerome and the Devil meets eyes for a moment before the darker-skinned man pinches his nose.

"Goddammit." Mats starts to snicker again.

-

"So...not to be the bearer of bad news, but you're sure you used the cinnamon at the east point and--" Jerome paces around like a caged animal in his room. Sami was the de facto leader of their little witch gathering. Incidentally, he had been out of the Institute when Jerome decided to summon a ghost which landed him in this situation in the first place.

"Sami, just tell me what I need to do to get rid of him." His teeth hurt from clenching his jaw. Robert had gotten bored of the house and went on a tour of the city with Mario who had become best friends with _the Devil_. It had been a couple of stressful days that included but weren't limited to the Devil sharing his bed because he was _cold_ and a distressing amount of cats leaving dead things at his window on the _third floor_. It was hard thinking in goddamn italics.

"Yeah, remember the bad news part of that sentence? You really suck at spells. Please consult me or Mesut before trying something like this again." Jerome lets out a frustrated growl. "...which we'll discuss at a later date with Bastian and Poldi. Okay, bad news, you didn't summon the Devil." He stops pacing. Sami blows out a breath before continuing.

"You got into a contract with him, a mystical bonding contract of some degree. You'll have to hash that out with him since I have no idea what deals with the devil entail. Good news, I can cook something up that might give you a little more leeway and personal space." Sami watches Jerome turn alarmingly red before taking some deep breaths to calm down. It wasn't like he hadn't paid attention in those stupid anger management classes.

"Okay. what's your devil-repellent idea?" 

-

Robert was sulking and sulking for the Devil included not caring about normal people seeing magic tricks so they had to confine him to the house. It was keyed to his human body by Sami's obscure knowledge and Mario's reluctant power source. 

"He's not that bad you know. He's got an ego but it's definitely not as bad as I imagined with him being the Devil." Mesut shrugs. Jerome had taken to using the veranda as his get away spot and since it technically fell under the outside of the house, Robert could only watch him from the window like a dog waiting for a bird to come closer.

"That's not nice." Jerome puts down his book. Everyone in the house got along with Robert with the exception of Manu, only because "he's got this brimstone thing going and I can't concentrate with it around" which had prompted a fun Q and A with the Devil on if Hell was really hot.

It wasn't. Possibly explaining why Robert liked the sunny spots in the Institute and cuddling. He redacted the dog statement. The devil was probably a cat person.

Jerome admits he was still pissed off about their talk went about the whole deal with the devil. He could get some stereotypes about witches. The Academy of Munich was pretty crazy and Mario could literally snap his fingers and get his wish but he was not down with being some sort of consort for Robert.

-

The dinner table was not an ideal place to broach the topic but go big or go home and really, Jerome was somewhat curious as to why the Devil had stuck around for so long without doing whatever duties the Prince of Darkness had to do.

"No, actually, it gets an upgrade every decade or so. It's a custom body for when I'm topside. I have to look good, or you know appealing." Robert is stabbing at the pork while Mats looks fascinated, poking at the Devil's skin. He had asked if he could change forms like the good old serpent story.

"It just doesn't sell anymore. The whole talking animal bit is kinda lame anyway. Now it's all about humanity being its own worst enemy. At least in my region. It's not like we have meetings about these things."

"Speaking of, shouldn't you be going? Managing whatever Devils do?" Everyone stopped eating except for Manu. Mario even looked like he was going to reprimand him for being rude.

Robert speared another piece of meat onto his fork. The air got tense. Jerome wasn't going to budge. Sami would need some time to concoct the potion for him. He at least wanted answers before then.

"Dear Jerome, I'm doing my devilry right now by being here with you. I know you were confused but come on, I haven't been under contract since automobiles were invented. You invited me in." Robert states with such a purpose that Jerome knows it has to be code or devil-speak for specific circumstances, circumstances that made his proverbial hackles rise. 

Benni butted in without a warning, almost thinking out loud. "Does that mean we're stuck with you, because no offense, I think the Council would have some really dicey opinions about that, Jer. Other covens will not be happy and well, it's the Devil, dude." 

Robert stands, actually towers with his presence, face set in a seriousness they hadn't seen before. Jerome gets that weird sensation when Robert plucks ideas from his head. It wasn't straight mind-reading like Mesut but a similar vein of power.

"They can't expel me. Don't hold your breath on that. We're legally bound together by contract." The thunder is his voice edges out to disappointment. Jerome feels oddly hot, embarrassed because he still felt like they were cross-communicating and it was not getting any clearer. Robert left the dinner table with his head held up yet still managing to look like a kicked puppy.

"Dude, I think you're married to the Devil." Mats chews his food like a barbarian. "....and you've just had your first marital spat."

-

"The devil has always been a misunderstood figure in Christianity and other religious lore." Jerome doesn't follow Mesut's train of thought. He glanced at his watch. 

"Misunderstood? He's not a teenager." He expects the kind of reaction Mario had been having the past few days. It wasn't his fault Sami had recruited him for Plan Keep Satan Under Wraps. Mario had a lot of raw power and helping to channel it into a weird forcefield was the least of his problems. Basti and Lukas were coming back for their "business trip" (read: fourth honeymoon) the day after tomorrow. They would have lots of words with Jerome if Robert was still sticking to his guns of wearing down Jerome.

He didn't want to explain himself to them or the Council.

"You're not a teenager either." Mesut, with as many words as usual cuts to the heart of the matter and gives him a kick in the ass for his troubles. Jerome hates when he's right. 

"I was blindsided by this. I'm justified being somewhat of an asshole to him." Mesut sits still, expression not changing but Jerome leans back in his chair and avoids the clear accusation in his slightly too large for his face eyes. He's been an asshole to everybody in the house. Sami didn't even want to be around the mess and he was definitely the nicest alongside Mesut.

"Just talk to him before you go to work okay? It might help." He smiles encouragingly. Jerome bumps his knuckles against the arm of the chair. 

"If you say so." He still feels Robert's eyes on his back. 

-

"Could you at least get rid of the amulet? It's irritating and an eyesore." Robert gets stiff and changes vernacular when he's uncomfortable and frankly he isn't the only one feeling that way. Jerome figured the best room of the house for privacy (as much privacy they could have at least) would be his room. Mario was out and Jerome half-suspected he was with their neighbor who introduced him to the tattooed disaster of a mortal he was pining over. 

It was awkward. With the amulet and the potions, Robert was forced to sleep in the guest room.

"Does it hurt?" The Devil's jaw tightened. Jerome realized in a bout of lunacy that he really had the upper hand in the situation. Robert wasn't fond of 'warlocks', hadn't been anything but disparaging about their powers and their slight advantage against normal mortals. He didn't get why they sat around and moaned (read: had beer and complained) about being different. 

"Yes. It's like an itch I can't scratch but much worse. Satisfied?" He had been distracted by the first part. Apparently, slang didn't travel as well to the Underworld.

"I didn't bring you in here to fight." He offered a slight truce by taking off the chain and setting it on Mario's desk, the farthest thing he could reach. Robert barely took a step forward but his nostrils flared as he inhaled like he was finally taking a breath of fresh air. Jerome wondered how exactly the amulet worked and what it affected.

"There's not much else to do in a room besides fighting and fucking, unless I've misunderstood your roommates." Jerome tries not to react to the goading. Mats, Manu, and Benni were not stellar examples to follow and he wasn't going to pretend he understood their dynamic or at what stage their drama was at. 

"You don't have a chamber in Hell?" His sarcasm prevails. Robert liked playing the tourist when it suited him.

"No, it's my realm. No one would disturb me." There's insinuation in the line. Jerome feels that odd hair-raising sensation again that puts an edge of anticipation to every conversation it invites itself to. He understands the devil has his tricks, but this was one he didn't understand. They were already in a Hell-equivalent of a marriage contract, why would Robert need to lay the seduction on thick. 

"What did you think would happen when you invoke a very specific spell with unspecific limitations? It shaped itself to what suited you best, Jerome." The fog of 'fuck no' makes Jerome get close enough to grab a fistful of Robert's borrowed shirt. Violence was an easy language to learn, too easy to give into. He blinks away the red edges of his vision. The whole problem of admitting he had done something remarkably stupid and taking the blame was that he would also have to admit to not absolutely regretting it.

"Stop playing games, Robert. You could easily leave your meat suit and end this. What's the point of honoring the contract ? What do you get out of it?" 

"Besides your soul?" He hates the smirk that crosses his face. Robert turns the tables. The potions are much weaker without the amulet around his neck and it had been days since they had been this close in closed quarters. Instinct makes Jerome fling out a hand. The door creaks but doesn't budge from the telekinetic force. Robert holds him to the wall with ease, looking much like a spider would a fly.

"There's no Chance when it comes to me. You know the story, I give you mortals a choice and every once and a while I get to have fun on the surface because of a stupid human. This stupid human managed to bind me in a contract that he has no clue how to use. I'm not playing games. I gave you freedom. I gave you power and you squabble and kill each other over it like infants." His voice isn't doing that ominous layered with evil thing, nonetheless, Jerome feels sweat sliding down the back of his neck. The 'fucking with a big bad' situation seems to solidify in his hind brain with the unholy shine Robert's precious flesh can't exactly hide behind the blue of his eyes.

"I'm not at fault for the whole of humanity." He may be sweating like a cornered nun but he's knows how to fake calm better than anyone in the house. 

Robert gives a begrudging grunt, "You are a frustrating example of it." The energy that holds him at bay releases him. The devil rakes his fingers through hair in a purely human habit he had probably picked up from one of his housemates. Jerome blinks, rotates his wrists, tests the strange air in the room, the tension that was practically humming around Robert.

"You can't kill me, can you." No deal with the devil ended with death strictly. It was more damning his soul for eternity, the death thing was mostly a consequence of whatever the mortal had gotten himself into.

"Why would I want to." Robert counters the non-question with an even more baffling one. Jerome doesn't know what to do.

-

"Are you okay?" Mario sits on his bed after coming through the door that connected their rooms. The house had been some sort of inn in its early incarnation before falling into the Council's proprietary hands as a safe haven for magicals. It had once housed over twenty boys as a school but that had been before the war, even so most witches still called it the Institute out of respect.

"I think the devil has feelings." Mario snorts like an offended pig. Jerome was never accused of being the smart one of the group. That was reserved for one Mats Hummels. 

"You mean the regular human kind or the specific ones towards you?" The younger witch really laid into him. He half-supposed he deserved it. His best friend hadn't so much replaced him with the devil as he had a sympathetic ear for him. Jerome wondered if he had instigated a shovel talk, the picture humorous enough to get him to stop frowning in consternation. Mario threatening the devil over him and his intentions was laughably touching.

"How long have I completely missed the mark with my paranoia?" Mario squints for a moment, judging Jerome's emotional capabilities.

"I don't know, he was in bed with you seven hours after meeting you. I would guess being summoned by a marriage contract leads to certain expectations...I noticed it after the first week. Mats claims he knew it was love at first sight. Manu said it was after the Truffle Incident. Benni was convinced he wanted to whisk you away to the Underworld like Persephone. Mesut and Sami didn't have any opinions but you know Sami's a softie and Mesut is oblivious so."

"Did you guys have a _meeting_ about my romantic prospects? When did this even happen? And it was just sleeping." Jerome chafed a little at the notion. He wasn't a recluse by any means, but he was the one who had been single the longest out of the coven. He didn't think matchmaking would factor in the devil, deals notwithstanding.

The protest fell on deaf ears. 

"Cuddling. You said it yourself or Mesut overheard it. Point is, what are you going to do about the devil pining in our house? Basti's pretty accommodating but Benni did have a point with the Council. If they get wind of the situation, it'll get a lot trickier than hiding hickies." Mario would know all about the Council's particular brand of caution being a long-time ward of one of the members. 

"You called it your house. Progress." Jerome rebuffed, slightly overwhelmed with the _assumption_ he would go along with the...proposition? what exactly do you call a non-declaration of attraction already bound by mystical law? Jerome had a headache. 

"I did, didn't I. Good for me, back to the original subject." He puts up a hand to stop Mario. 

"I get that you're all very supportive of my relationship with the devil. But he is, in fact, **the devil**. Logistically, I have no idea where to start with the problems of me, a witch, getting into a romantic relationship with him. I have a little over twenty four hours to find a solution before Bastian and Poldi come back. I also have to go to work, which cuts down on my planning time." Mario huffs, genuinely looking at Jerome like he had lost his mind. 

"I'm going to make this simple for you. Without Basti and the council and the contract and whatever else is occupying your mind, would you go for it? Think about it. And stop being so hung up on the devil part. It's like a job title that comes with some creepy powers and more theatrics than a Macbeth production." 

Jerome was left with that to chew on. 

-

From: Gottlevel

**We took down the barrier. Have fun.**

From: Sami

**I was under duress.**

From: Saint Neuer

 **Don't fuck this up. I've got money on you.**

The rapid succession of texts went unanswered until last call because Jerome was a consummate professional and a rush of college kids had kept him busy until one in the morning. He idly thumbed a reply to Manu which said 'fuck off. How much?'

From: Benni Bro

**50 bucks and a blowjob.**

Jerome screws up his face at the over-sharing. It has to be a pot of at least 200 bucks then. Sami and Mesut were doubtful for betting their money, but Mario could never resist a dumb betting pool. He could only imagine what variety of stupid bets were in play at the moment. Too bad the stupidest idea hadn't ever occurred to them prior to dealing with the devil.

Speaking of, Robert strolls in casually five minutes before closing. Felix gives him the stink eye which just elevates his opinion of the security guard because everyone else in full stock of their senses (or not) ogles Robert not so subtly. Jerome swallows down the bizarre _pride_ in his chest with a gulp of water. David greets the devil as cheerfully as he would any other customer until Jerome tells him he'll handle him. 

"What'll you have?" He sets out a coaster preemptively. Robert shrugs. He's almost positive a girl sitting at the table behind him starts whispering a play by play of the stretch of his shirt and his back muscles. It looks like Mats' button down, it's the shade of blue that contrasts well with his dark curls. Jerome didn't understand the logic of not buying clothes, but in retrospect, maybe the devil had been looking for a specific reaction from him. 

"Your pick." Jerome would've stuck him with something expensive if he were angry, instead he plucks the farthest bottle to his left. The cinnamon whiskey is just too humorous of a choice to resist. The shot glass is filled to the brim. Robert waits for him to fill another for himself, another rule broken but his shift technically ends right about now anyway. 

The silent toast makes the whiskey slosh over his fingertips and he half-expects Robert to try something inappropriate if only to titillate the girls behind them. He downs the shot and only raises an eyebrow at Jerome's cough. 

"I'm leaving." Somehow the tone tells Jerome its not just for the here and now. 

"Wait outside for me. I have to deal with all of this." Robert doesn't move at the slight plea. He seems to remember himself when Jerome turns away with the shot glasses and his heart beating furiously. A twenty dollar bill appears in place of the man and Jerome knows it's a now or never situation. 

After cleaning up and saying goodbyes, he finds Robert leaning against the side of his car smoking, technically he shared the car with Benni, but the sight twists something in his stomach. 

"How does this work if you leave?" Robert's cigarette puts itself out, the ember dying.

"Depends." He hedges. Jerome scratches at his ear, trying not to let the slow wind of frustration build up. The devil may say he doesn't play games, but he's certainly got the penchant for getting into mind games with Jerome. Now that the moment has arrived, he is still unsure of how to approach the feelings between them. Mario had simplified the problem, but the truth of life was that it was never simple. 

"I'm assuming based on my tolerance of you in my life? What does that mean exactly actually? I've been getting all this advice from everyone else but you've been quiet about it. The contract is based on my whim but there has to be a way of fulfilling it right? You can't be at the beck and call of every stupid human who fucks up." Jerome echoes his earlier words. 

"A token usually, pound of flesh, a favor, that sort of thing." Robert gives him the truth without embellishment. 

Jerome's brain catches onto something, finally getting out of the cycle of panic and sluggishness that it had been in for the past couple of weeks. The puzzle was finally starting to make sense. 

"How long have you been trying to seduce me out of spite? or rather when did it change?" Robert has to look up at him as he gets close enough that the toes of their shoes bump into each other. Jerome doesn't think the shadows suit him at all. He leans down to whisper, his throat working much too hard for a small concession.

"I won't do this with the contract still in play." But he was willing to give it a try, weird theology aside. Jerome wouldn't hold him to rules unless they were their own. He had to choose him just like Jerome was choosing to try.

"Your move then, witch." The kiss is freely given and reciprocated tenfold. He ends up with his back against the car. The act cutting free the reigns of Robert's restraint. Jerome grabs a fistful of hair which only makes the devil purr in satisfaction. His hands worm their way under his shirt and he's half-tempted to use the backseat for a continuation but he settles himself down enough to be rational, the lips at his neck be damned.

"I don't suppose you have enough cash in that wallet to get a hotel room?" He feels that smirk rather than sees it.

"Yes, but there's no fun in that, Jerome. Your housemates are expecting results." _and a spectacle_ he mentally adds because they were just as dramatic as the devil. 

"You're lucky I'm in a giving mood."

**Author's Note:**

> It's barely september and my brain was like spooky! halloween!! Purely self-indulgent nonsense


End file.
